Dean's New Leather Jacket
by Crimson1
Summary: Incubus-verse. Tag to and spoilers for 7.22 "There Will Be Blood." Because Dean's new leather jacket had to have come from somewhere. Implied Dean x OMC, with a confused Sam.


Dean's New Leather Jacket

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A/N: Because Dean's new leather jacket, that Jensen apparently helped design, came out of NOWHERE, during a time when Dean would not have shopped or been able to pull said jacket out of his ass. And because Sasha visited me last night while half out of it on Ambien, and started to write this fic without me. I found it this evening, and decided to finish it. Incubus-verse. Assumes that Dean and Sasha met at the S&M club from "Criss Angel is a Douchebag" which has been a story in my head SINCE that episode, that I may or may not ever write.

Enjoy.

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Sam stares at the leather jacket draped over the back of Dean's chair—this _new_ leather jacket that Sam has never seen before, not until the last few days. Had Dean bought it? When would Dean have had the chance to shop? It couldn't be one he just had lying around; it looks too new and well-kept. Treasured—like their father's leather jacket used to be. That only leaves one other option.

Someone gave it to Dean. But who?

Sam has grown beyond trying to talk something out of Dean without empirical evidence, and since Dean ran out to grab them lunch without taking the jacket along, now might be the perfect opportunity to find some.

At first Sam finds the usual things in Dean's pockets: extra cell phone, some cash, some coins, a business card or two, and then, hidden in the inside left pocket, a note. Sam feels it is his brotherly obligation to read this note in case Dean is caught up in anything he shouldn't be.

It reads:

_I'm sorry, but I can't do this anymore. We've been doing this dance for three years, Dean. Either I'm part of your life or I'm not. If you don't want me, keep this to remember me by. If you do, you know where to find me to give it back. __-Sasha_

Sasha? Sam can't recall the name. Dean's been seeing some girl off and on for three years? But that would have overlapped his time with Lisa. If Sam had known there was someone else in Dean's life, he never would have insisted that Dean go to her. He hopes that his request isn't the only reason Dean spent a year with Lisa if he actually wanted someone else. There has to be another reason.

Then Sam realizes what it is. Dean _loves_ this girl. This...Sasha. Dean never has been very good at going after what he really wants. Lisa was easy, normal. Maybe this Sasha comes with extra complications.

A hunter maybe? Sam can't think of any female hunters named Sasha, although there aren't many female hunters they know anymore who are still alive. But how else could Dean keep up an affair for so long without Sam knowing, unless this girl was a transient too, and often crossed paths with them?

Frantically, Sam tries to think of times when Dean might have slipped out unnoticed, but that's just it; it went unnoticed, and Dean is apparently much better at covering his tracks than Sam ever was with...Ruby.

Sam quickly replaces the note in Dean's jacket pocket and sits on the bed. He isn't sure what to do. He could leave things be, he knows that, just pretend he never found the note. But surely if Dean really wanted to cut this girl out of his life, he would have ditched the jacket somewhere, not worn it around like a familiar friend. But, knowing Dean, even if he wants this girl around, wants to give in and have her with them, it's _Dean_—he'll probably wear that jacket around forever, allowing himself to be miserable, before he ever gives in and tells her, _yes, I want you._

Sam can't allow this, allow Dean to once again put himself last and not take what he's owed just because he thinks he doesn't deserve a happy ending. It's the end of the world, _again_, maybe for real this time. Dean should be able to enjoy every spare moment they have. Sam would, if he had someone. And if Dean has someone, then...well, Sam wants his brother to indulge. Better this girl who he clearly actually loves rather than a bottle or another pull from Bobby's flask.

That settles it; Sam has to say something. He can't allow Dean to just go on wearing this girl's jacket, hating life and thinking he's not worthy of love. Everyone Dean's ever loved has betrayed him at some point, one way or another, Sam maybe worst of all. Dean _deserves_ Sasha.

Then, just as the door begins to open, Sam realizes it's _Sasha's_ jacket. The jacket is nice and new compared to their dad's, but not brand new. It isn't something Sasha bought Dean; it's something Sasha _wears_. But...that jacket isn't cut for a woman.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean says as he enters the room. "I gave in and bought a damn George Foreman so we can have some real food. We can't live on roughage alone, ya know."

Sam stares at Dean. He's caught his brother more than once turning into the flipped up collar of the jacket and breathing in, taking in a familiar scent of leather and...whoever normally wears that jacket, which couldn't possibly be a woman.

"Hey, you alive in there?"

"Who's Sasha?" Sam asks without thinking; he has to know.

Dean nearly drops the bags he's carrying. For a moment, Dean's eyes go deer-in-headlights wide and his face turns ashen, before he catches himself and pulls on one of his usual masks. "Who?"

"I saw the note in your jacket. That isn't your jacket. Who's Sasha?"

"You were going through my pockets?"

"Dean, _who is Sasha_?"

Dean snarls, tossing the bags onto the floor, which causes the small grill to clang loudly. "I can't believe you. Mind your own damn business," he snaps, and quickly snatches up the jacket, placing it comfortably over his shoulders before storming back toward the door.

"Do you love him?" Sam calls, no longer having to guess.

Dean freezes.

"You love him. Stop wearing his jacket then and bring him here. Let him be here, Dean, it's obviously what he wants. What you both want."

Dean whirls around. "So he can get thrown into the middle of our god damn war with Dick. _No_."

Sam shakes his head. "He's a hunter, right? He has to be. Even if he wasn't, he's already in the middle of this, Dean. Everyone is. You saw him when, two days ago? That's when the jacket appeared. So where is he? I don't care, Dean. Do you think I'd care? Call him. If he's still somewhere nearby, _call him_. We don't know if this plan is even going to work."

"Exactly!" Dean nearly shouts, not realizing that one of his hands is tightly gripping the edge of the jacket. "If we do this, if we pull it off...then I'll see him."

"Yeah? Sounds like you've been telling him bullshit like that for three years."

Dean's eyes flare with green fire. "Fuck you. What do you know?"

"Nothing. Because you never tell me anything, Dean. You love this guy. You've been seeing him for three years, and I didn't even know he existed. And it's not because he's a guy; that's not why you've kept him a secret. It's because you think everything you love turns to ash, and if you can just keep him far enough out of your life, maybe you can save him from that."

Dean's expression cracks, and Sam knows he's hit gold.

"You can't think that way, Dean," Sam says. "If he's a hunter, then he's faced Leviathan already, or he will. If we win, _we win_. If we don't, he won't be safe long anyway. You've been wearing that thing like a second skin for two days." Sam indicates the jacket perfectly fit around Dean's shoulders. "The only reason you didn't take it with you just now is because it's 80 degrees outside. You love him. Call him. For once, you can listen to me."

Several minutes pass with Dean standing there, wearing Sasha's leather jacket, not saying a word, while Sam stares right back at his brother, patient enough to wait out Dean's strongest resolve. This is something Sam can't back down on. For Dean's sake, he can't.

Dean's hand that had been gripping the edge of the jacket begins to move up one side, feeling the jacket the way he would...if it were on someone else. He realizes then that Sam is still watching him and his hand drops to his side.

"It's complicated," Dean says.

"You love him."

Dean closes his eyes a moment, like his emotions are too close to the surface. "It's more complicated than just that."

"I'm listening," Sam says. Then he takes his own cell phone out of his pocket and throws at it Dean, which Dean easily catches. "But I'll listen _after_ you call him."

For a moment, Dean looks like he might protest again, maybe throw Sam's phone right back, aimed at Sam's _head_, but then his expression softens.

He's been wearing that jacket _like a second skin for two days_.

"Okay," Dean says, "but if this ends badly, I'm totally blaming you."

Sam just smiles as Dean begins to dial Sasha's number. "Whatever happens, it'll be a better ending than the one I've been picturing."

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THE END

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Because at this point, why is this show still on? Seriously? I love the boys, but I don't even know what the writers are thinking anymore. Or should I just blame Sera? I mean, what the hell is the Cas thing? I'm close to giving up on the Show entirely. Thank god I'll always have Incubus and great fans. :-)


End file.
